Blood Ties
by xXLunawolfXx
Summary: This is short introduction based on a brother and sister for a Warhammer Fantasy game I was playing.


Asvagar was born as the fourth son of Hroga Kael in the Beornig clan of the Aesling tribe. The village he lived in was small, with only about six or seven families living there, but its location at the coast gave it an advantage: a natural harbour. So many of the other villages nearby had their ships there, and insulting one of the families would end with a ship burning down. His father owned his own ship in the harbour; the village's warriors going off to plunder other tribes near the shores when the Frozen Sea was open to them in summer, he was eager to join them, even when he was a young boy. His blood helped him there, as he was willing to slay anyone to earn his place on the crew.

At the age of 14 winters he took his rites of manhood, it was a trial every young warrior must go through before they could call themselves a man. He was cast out from his village fated to travel the wilds for thirty days, surviving on nothing but his own instinct. He travelled for days through the icy tundra straying further away from the village proper. He carried with him nothing but the basic tools for survival, his axe, a worn but sturdy shield and thick furs to protect him from the harsh temperatures of the merciless night.

As the sun rose on the final day of his journey he looked down upon the mist wreathed valley, noticing for the first time the faint light from a campfire illuminating the mist far below him. He was suspicious at once as no true warrior from his or any of the surrounding tribes would behave this careless so far away from the relative safety of their villages, as this would undoubtedly attract the attention of the Ymir. He approached the campsite with caution staying low to the ground to minimise his profile, hidden in the mist of the new dawn the sounds of hushed voices came to his ears.

As he closed in, he heard the voices clearer now through the mist, the strange language and accent of these people amazing him further as these were not of the Aesling or of any tribe of the north. It was now possible to make out several of the figures huddled around a small campfire, stalking forward he waited patiently until he could identify them with more accuracy before deciding what he must do with these strangers. As the sun slowly crept up the morning sky he was able to make out more and more details of these strangers to his land. From their appearance he guessed that they were not armed well enough to be raiders from a foreign country, and not dressed in the finery of the merchants. From their nervous nature he guessed they could be thralls, who had escaped their former masters to take their chances out in the wilds. None of that mattered at all now, they were strangers and they would not be allowed to roam the lands of his tribe unchallenged.

Now close enough to smell their unwashed bodies he growled low under his breath his hand tightening on the hilt of his axe before he leapt forward into the midst of them, screaming the war cry of his kin. Surprised, the men were unable to react in time to the whirlwind of death in their midst. As they stood there frozen in fear his axe flashed down severing the arm of the closest man the fountain of blood spraying across his face. The smell of the freshly spilt blood sent him into a primal frenzy, as he stalked towards the next of the trespassers the lust for bloodshed gleaming in his eyes. Reversing the direction of his axe he swung at the second of the men burying it deep into his side. With a growl he wrenched his axe sideward opening a large wound in the mans stomach, spilling his steaming guts onto the frozen ground. He watched with some amusement as the man tried in vain to force his entrails back into his body before slumping over dead. Reversing the direction of his axe he swung at the second of the men burying it deep into his side

As he stood there over the rapidly cooling corpse he hears the others finally draw their weapons. Smiling he turned around to face the new threat his grip tightening on his bloodied axe. His eyes spoke of murder; his face and chest coated in the life's blood of his foes the very incarnation of Kharnath.

On of the three remaining foes launched himself at Asvagar, he blocked the clumsy attack with ease using the shaft of his axe while bringing his shield to bear smashing his attacker in the face. Blood sprayed from his ruined face as the bones shattered under the force of the blow, as the man fell to his knees Asvagar kicked him in the chest knocking him to the ground where the man convulsed as he slowly drowned as his own blood filled his lungs.

As he watched the light dim in the fallen mans eyes the other thrall took advantage of Asvagar's apparent distraction, scoring a shallow hit on his right arm. Swinging round to face the new threat he watched with barely controlled anger at the blood flowing freely down his arm, Asvagar growled in rage his axe held ready and his bloodied shield held out in front of him. Enraged he launched himself at his foe bringing his axe down in a sweeping strike, the man brought up his rusted sword desperate to parry the mighty blow. The mans eyes went wide as the powerful axe sheared through his pitiful defence, the sword shattering into a hundred small fragments before the axe buried itself deep into his skull. Asvagar hissed in pain as several of the splinters sliced into the flesh of his face. The man crumpled as his legs gave way, and he fell to the ground, his blood staining the white snow a deep crimson. Stepping on his slain foes chest he wrenched his axe free of his skull.

Seeing his brethren slain in such a fashion the last of the men dropped his weapon and ran not wishing to share the same fate as those before him, seeing him flee Asvagar chased after him gaining with every step. Throwing his shield out like a disc he struck the fleeing man in the back knocking him to the ground, and as he tried to get up Asvagar stood over him a feral glint in his eye as his axe flashed down decapitating the man in one clean and powerful stroke. Taking hold of his fallen foes head he lifted it high into the sky letting the blood fill his mouth as he roared in triumph to Kharnath. Almost reverently he took the heads of the others fastening them to his belt before he started on his trip back to the village. When he had left the village 30 days previously, he had been but a boy. Now, as he strode into the village head held high soaked in the blood of his enemies he returned a man. Wasting no time he made his way to the shrine of the Blood God gifting his god with his first kills so they could be added to the throne of Karnath.

The years went by, and he joined his father's crew, becoming one of the dreaded Reavers, who pillaged the shores during summer. He enjoyed to participate in the slaughter and killing, and didn't much care for anything else in his life, until one day his youngest sister changed.

Maeva was the latest child to be born to Hroga Kael; she had been born into one of the worst winters the tribe had seen for decades with very little chance of survival. Over the course of the harsh winter the population of the village was cut in half as both old and young alike were taken by the cold, yet against the odds she grew strong.

The day the storm broke and the sky cleared a cry was heard from their home their mother called for their father to come at once, whether as a gift or as an omen the child had been marked by the Dark Gods. The perfect green of one eye replaced by a sharp and icy blue the colour of the raging sea in winter.

As she grew older it was clear to see that she was different from the other children in her family, her brothers were all fine and strong warriors and her sisters were obedient and helped where they were needed in the village as the women of the tribe were bade to do.

Maeva lived in a world of her own though she would leave the village for countless hours at a time leaving her chores unfinished and roaming unafraid far into the wilderness all alone. She would return to the village before dark every day a smile on her face and a spring in her step and settle down to rest with the rest of her family. When her father would ask where she would visit she would simply smile that innocent smile of hers and hum to herself quietly telling them it was her secret place.

When spring came and the great sea thawed she would sit on the rocks by the shore wrapped in furs and sing while she waited for her father's ship to return. When the ship docked she would wait on the beach for her father to come ashore, each trip he would bring her a small trinket back as a gift before scooping her up onto his shoulders and making their way back home.

By her 15th winter she had grown into a strong yet delicate woman, still smiling and singing as she went about the village. Now a capable warrior in her own right she would disappear into the wilds for days or weeks at a time never telling anyone of where she went. It was one such time when her God took an active interest in her; it was also the day her brother had chosen to follow her.

Maeva had always annoyed him to a certain degree as they were growing up, as she had always been their father's favourite child. She would wait on the shore of the great sea waiting and watching for some sign of their return. After their father gave her a little present, like a golden coin, or a looted doll, they would all return to the family's longhouse.

When the feasting was done for the evening, she would not stay with her family, not even to listen to stories her father would tell of their voyage. Instead she would follow Asvagar on every step he made, skipping and singing after him everywhere he went. Although he didn't want her to follow him, he preferred to ignore her than to chase her away. After all, she was from his blood.

When Maeva was in her 15th winter, she strayed around too much for his mother, abandoning her chores and her family for her flights of fancy into the wilderness. His mother had asked him to follow her one day to find where she would go for days at a time, and although he preferred to stay with the other young men of his age from the other families in the village, he was forced by his fathers' stern words to follow her into the night.

Although he lacked the skill some others had, he was able to follow her easily without being noticed. The trail Maeva used was old, and only barely recognizable, a bad feeling struck him as he saw where they were heading. It was called 'The Forbidden Place', and not even the bravest warriors of the clan dared to go there, for it was a dark place steeped in old magic.

He approached the ring of stones, silently watching from the tree line as she danced around them, drawing runes and symbols upon them both of which hurt his head to look upon. His heart stopped for a moment in his chest as she touched the stones, and suddenly an eerie light sufficed her body spilling from the stones themselves.

This night was different she could hear the music in her mind clearer then ever before the night sang to her, showing her dreams and visions of the future. She saw villages burn she saw children born whose future had not even been written yet. The twin moons gazed down upon her full in the clear night sky as she danced entranced around the stones, her eyes closed tight yet never tripping or faltering even the once.

As she touched the central stone she was bathed in a miasma of coruscating light, as she danced the light snaked its way up her body swirling around her back and taking on the mesmerising form of unfurled wings in every colour imaginable. The stones began to hum and pulsate gently with a sickly blue light as she weaved her body around them, her eyes ever closed she was lost fully to the song in her head. Finally the light flared a blinding blue in the dark of the night as it wormed itself into her body, collapsing across the central stone she screamed as the foul magic warped her flesh.

A shiver ran down his spine his blood running cold as he watched in horror as a pair of feathered wings burst through the skin of her back in a spray of blood and shattered bone. This was magic dark and evil, not the way of Kharnath but the way of one of his foes. He struggled inside as he thought on the consequences of what he saw, as a member of the clan he was beholden to slay Maeva and the taint within her. Then what was making him stay his hand from spilling her life upon the ground? She was one of his blood - his kin – surely that had to stand for something?

Still unsure of what to do, he approached the circle with caution, his axe ready in his hand just in case this creature was no more his sibling. Stepping within the ring of stones he looked down upon his sister. These wings, they bore the colour of Tchar not the adversary of Kharnath, but still not as welcomed as Nurglitch and better than Halni.

His hate for her rose as he looked upon the wings, growling he grabbed her roughly by her arm uncaring of the pain that seared through his body. He dragged her away from the circle fighting the urge to destroy her for what she had let into her body. His hand stayed only by remembering the promise he gave to their mother.

Dragging her all the way to the village he forced her into their house, throwing her down into her own bed. A deadly look in his eyes as he stared down at her, his grip on his axe tightening I he contemplated his next move. She was un-pure, not devoted to Kharnath and for that he knew she would be sacrificed. If he hid her shame the taint would fall upon the family and by this in extension to the entire clan. Weakness was not tolerated in any measure by the other Aesling clans, and what greater weakness could there be than for ones own kin to fall from the grace of the Blood God? He could not allow this to happen, no matter what he promised his mother. He raised his axe, ready to take her head, cleaning his family from her taint.

Bloodstained and with tears streaming down her face she gasped as she watched her brother raise the powerful axe ready to strike her down with but a single blow. Unable to protect herself she buried her face into her blankets, too afraid to look upon her death. Her shoulders shook and her newly gifted wings quivering as she lay there crying silently waiting for the end to come. He aimed his strike for her neck he would make it quick and pain free she was his sister still she deserved a clean death at least. As the axe was just about to hit he heard his father's voice shouting out for him to stop. He altered the route of the strike at the last second so it did not decapitate her, but instead the blade biting into the pale flesh of her neck leaving a shallow cut along the base of it,. Just above the shoulder.

Enraged he turned to look at his father as he approached them, his weapon in his hand. He could not understand his father's hesitation such an abomination was not allowed to live, so why wasn't he allowed to end her miserable life for the sake of the honour of his family and his tribe? His father took him by the arm leading him away from his sister explaining that this was a decision to be made by the Vitki, not he.  
After several long minutes the pair returned to her room, each of them taking an arm they dragged her roughly out of the house before chaining her up in the stable. The look on her fathers face as he left was a mix of sorrow and regret, she knew herself there would only be one outcome to this. She huddled in the corner of the stable weeping silently for the trouble she had brought upon her family, Asvagar silently guarding her as their father went off to get the Vikti so she may bare his judgment.

Sometime during the night both his father and the Vikti returned to the stable, Asvagar's father passed him with a grim look on his face followed close by the Vikti's own personal guards. Never before had something like this happened to their village, any decision made would rock the very foundations of the tribe for years to come. The Vikti stared at her for a long time, roughly grabbing her wings and unfurling them so he could inspect them before turning away disgusted. The judgment was clear even before the Vikti spoke she would be sacrificed to the Blood God at dusk. Asvagar was pleased to hear the final judgment until the Vikti turned at him, smiling the Vikti informed him that his head would also be added to Kharnath throne. He had broke the villages most sacred rule by visiting the stone circle, in the eyes of the Vikti the young warrior was just as tainted as his sister and would be purged alongside her so their taint would not be permitted to spread and corrupt the rest of the village. His father closed with him brandishing his sword ready to strike his son down should he resist, in a sorrowful voice he demanded that Asvagar relinquish his axe. Rage filled Asvagar his body-tensing ready to strike out, but before he could start to fight the Vikti's guards attacked him pinning him to the ground. He was dragged away along side his sister and locked into a cage at the top of the cliff where they would both be sacrificed to Kharnath at dusk.

She sat hunched over in her cage somewhat battered and bruised from the rough treatment at the hands of the guards, she stared out over the edge of the cliff at the setting sun. She smiled to herself despite the situation she found herself in, even knowing it would be her last day in this world she could not help but be happy.  
She quietly hummed to herself as she flexed her newly fledged wings, unfurling them as far as possible given the confined spaces of the cage. Touching the radiant blue feathers softly with her hand she moved her fingers downwards, the colours bleeding into a subtle purple and then into a deep burning orange as she reached the very tips. She could not understand how something so wondrous could be frowned upon so much by the people of her village; looking to her brother in the next cage her smile vanished as she witnessed the disgust on his face at her gift. He hated her that much was obvious; he hated her for what she had become and what it had meant to her family. Looking away from him ashamed her eyes burned with fresh tears as the sun slowly dipped under the horizon casting the sky into a riot of colour.

Taking one last look at her wings she folded them carefully once more against her back before settling on the floor of the cage and looking up at the darkening sky at the innumerable stars above. She must have drifted off at some point because she woke with a start as she was forcibly dragged from the cage and strapped to the rock that stood vertical on the edge of the cliff. It was then she saw that the entire of the village had assembled to watch the sacrifice; she could see her parents close by, her mother weeping and her father staring at her with a look of shame – no, sorrow - at what had become of his children.

After a few words the Vikti approached her leering at her as she struggled against her bindings. Gesturing to two nearby thralls he had them grab her wings stretching them out for all those gathered to see. She wept as the Vikti ran his hands over them, the thralls pulling them ever tighter causing her muscles to sear with pain as they reached there limits. After a few agonising minutes the Vikti finally turned to address the crowd, before gesturing over his shoulder for the thralls to continue. As the Vikti spoke of the reasons they could not allow the dark magic to taint their tribe the two thralls pulled harder on her wings causing her to scream in agony as the hollow bones started to break under the strain. Tears ran down her face the pain almost causing her to black out; she looked upon her brother her eyes pleading with him to end her suffering as her bones finally succumbed and broke with a sickening crunch. Their task complete, the thralls released their hold on her, allowing her wings to hang useless at her side.

The Vikti approached Asvagar keeping his distance from the cage, as Asvagar launched himself at the bars of the cage snarling at him. Laughing at the boys pitiful attempts the Vikti turned his eyes to the broken form of Maeva, leering sickeningly at her unconscious body before stepping away from the pair and addressing the gathered crowd once more. Usually in a case such as this he would have been sacrificed and thrown down the cliffs like a thrall for the severity of his crimes, but he was a warrior of the clan and as such only the gods could hold judgment over if he lived or died.

As it was his choice to make he decided to fight against the Vikti's own champion, a hulking figure of a man easily the size of one of the great bears that roamed the wilderness of the north. This man was a seasoned warrior his naked chest showing the countless scars of battle, if he was to die he would die with honour fighting the strongest warrior of their tribe. The look on the warriors face showed that he was eager to kill Asvagar, increasing his honour in the eyes of Kharnath.

One of the thralls approached the cage holding Asvagar before releasing him from his captivity. He was handed a battleaxe and a shield, he recognised them at once as his own weapons. The perfect weight of them reassuring and comfortable in his hands, he expected as much however as it was a great dishonour to fight a warrior with weapons that were not their own. Asvagar looked at the champion watching his every move as he picked up a huge two-handed war axe, the gleaming metal still encrusted with the blood of those he had slain before. Eyeing the blade Asvagar circled his opponent, knowing that a single hit from that weapon would be enough to kill the young warrior outright. Even if he attempted block it would shatter his shield into kindling and crush his bones to dust.

Both warriors slowly circled around each other, waiting for the perfect opening and a chance to strike the first blow. Asvagar was first to see his opportunity, and leapt forward towards his opponent his axe swinging up from below. The blow was designed to cut his opponent in half however it never landed; the champion was faster than he at first appeared and deftly parried the blow with the hilt of his weapon. The warrior lead with a counterattack of his own throwing all of his weight behind a solid punch to Asvagar's face, as it connected he could feel the bone beneath crack from the force of the hit, pushing him backwards and making him stumble.

Feeling the blood trickle down his face he growled, his heart beating faster as his vision and his world turned red from bloodlust. With a feral roar he leapt forward bringing him inside the larger mans range, griping his axe tight he swung with all his might. The champion could not bring his heavy axe up in time to meet this frenzied attack, leaving him wide open for Asvagar's blow to score a deep wound along his arm. Hissing through the pain the champion barely even noticed the wound, instead renewing his attack. Lashing out he launched into a swing that would have cleft the smaller warrior in two had he not deftly jumped aside at the last possible moment.  
Asvagar whirled around, blinded from the blood running into his eyes, striking for what he knew to be the direction of the champion. His reward was the tell tale tremor in his axe hilt telling him he had struck true. Wiping the blood from his eyes he looked upon the champion growling with satisfaction as he noticed he had taken two of his fingers; however he soon realised his error as he saw that his axe was now buried in the hilt of the larger weapon. Howling in anger the Vikti's man pulled away his axe, tearing Asvagar's from his hands and sending it skittering across the cold earth.

Now only armed with his shield, the young warrior quickly thought about what options were left open to him. With his foe still armed but hurt and himself without a weapon he had only one choice left to him. Taking advantage of his enemy's wounds he leapt at him, his shield held high above his head as he roared his defiance to the world. The shield hit the warriors face with a sickening crunch the force of the blow knocking both men to the floor, the champion lying below the frenzied Asvagar. Letting his anger take control of him his mind filled with blood lust as he slashed the rim of his shield into the other warriors face over and over again until his skull cracked. Even as his body went limp Asvagar did not cease his relentless attack, smashing the warriors face into a bloody ruin, and he watched with pleasure as a smear of brain matter and gore replaced what was once the mans skull.  
Roaring his anger to the heavens he finally dropped his shield before getting to his feet again. His bloodlust unquenchable he retrieved his fallen axe wrenching it free from the hilt of the other weapon before turning to face the Vikti. His body slick with gore his hair matted and dripping blood he stalked towards the Vikti his rage still burning bright within him. He wanted to kill more, to kill every last thing that stood in his way.

The Vikti's eyes went wide with fear as Asvagar slowly closed in on him; backing off towards the cliff edge until he was out of ground to retreat onto. Realising his mistake he panicked, waving his hands in the air before him in complicated gestures he closed his eyes all the while muttering under his breath. As his eyes snap open a malicious grin forms on his face as an arc of crackling green lightning sprang from his fingers straight at the young man chest. Asvagar howled in pain as the lightening found its mark dropping him to his knees, the whole village stood silent looking on in shock at the scene before them. The Vikti had used magic, the forbidden lore for all who followed Kharnath, and he had also used it to strike out against someone of the tribe that in the eyes of their god had already been proven innocent of his crimes.

As he rose to his feet sparks still danced over his body, a deep growl issued from Asvagar's throat as he stalked towards the Vikti, a killing look in his eyes. With a feral cry he charged at the Vikti, and with a single clean blow from his axe he cleft his body open from the head to groin. Thick, stinking, black blood sprayed over him mixing with the deep crimson already coating his flesh. His anger un-sated he turned on the nearest bystander in a fit of rage before cleaving the man in half, spilling his guts onto the cold earth.

Dropping to his knees he rested his head against the ground, breathing heavily. As his vision cleared and his heart rate dropped he looked up for the first time and saw who had been the victim of his rage. His heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he looked upon the face of his own father lying dead beside him, his body eviscerated from hip to hip. Hearing his sister scream he awoke from his shock, scrambling to his feet and turning to face the new threat all other thoughts forgotten.

Barely conscious from the intense pain that wracked her body she looked on in horror at the fight in front of her. She screamed in terror as her brother turned his attention to their father killing him in one easy stroke. Fighting at her bindings she wept at the death of her father, even though he had been the one to sentence her to this fate. As her brother approached the stone she flinched away, expecting him to kill her like he had their father, instead she saw only sorrow in his eyes as he cut her bindings.

Taking her hand he led her through the stunned crowd each person in shock or too scared to move against the pair. Grabbing what little effects they could they fled the village, for now he had killed one of his own they would be hunted relentlessly.

They travelled south, moving from village to village not staying for any length of time, surviving in the wilds where they could. After days and weeks of travelling they found themselves looking out toward the sea, the smoke of countless fires marking the port of Bjarkoy sprawling before them in the valley below...


End file.
